Fang the Unfortunate
by alice nallie
Summary: Poor Fang. He lives in a living hell for a bird-kid. Find out just what he puts up with day-to-day.
1. Chapter 1

Me: Well, first of all, hello, people! I'm a new writer to our beloved FanFiction, so I would like to give a big warm welcoming speech.

**Iggy: Ugh. Not another Nudge.**

**Me: Iggy, shut up and get in the fnicking plothole, will ya'? And anyway, I said I would like to. Not that I will give a speech, anyway. If you want that stuff, then sorry, but just read my biography. It kills me when other authors do really long and pointless stories. That's just downright annoying. Do you hear me FanFiction? Get with the story! Anyway, some of you guys may have seen me comment before, but I didn't have an account. That's because I had to use my, um, other system that is not really a computer but has Internet, and it doesn't let you have register. So anyways, just a heads up, my computer easily breaks down on Internet, but I will have common updates. And I promise I will never give up on a story. If it makes one person happy, then I will continue. So sorry for bothering you, b-**

**Iggy: So, before she starts talking and doesn't shut up, like a certain bird girl we all know, here is the story!**

I rolled over in bed. Couldn't sleep on my side. I rolled over again. Damn. They'd slugged me pretty hard on my stomach, too. I was beaten with butter pillows everywhere. I prayed my, erm, reproductive organs stilled worked, or Max might want kids and take Dylan instead. Why was I beaten up?, you may ask. Well, for the unfaithful ass' out there, no, I was not beaten by Ari and Dylan in a fight. And no. I no, I didn't cut myself. I would rather be doing that right now, but… Besides, can you even cut yourself with butter pillows? (If you can hit me up, Maxie took my razors. Well, anyway, this actuallhy happened because of Max. sure, I love her, (Even more so if she would just die her hair red, but noooo…) and I can forgive her for almost everything, yeah, but, uh, just read. Just freakin' read.

I was watching some chick flick about a puppy or something else stupid, and suddenly Max burst out into tears. I don't know why. Sure, a dog died and all, but we've seen worse. Max stared up at me, sniffling. "Do you think I'm pretty?", she said, voice cracked, eyes red, puffy, and swollen. I glanced downward. As I opened my mouth to oppose, more than a millisecond later, she growled, knocking me off the couch. Scratching my cheek, she grabbed a cushion from the couch, and started beating me with it. As I was being bruised, beaten, and battered, Ella, Max's sister skipped into the room, with her boyfriend Alex. Ella took one look at us, giggled and screeched, "PILLOW FIGHT!" As if it were an on switch, the rest of the flock came bounding down the stairs. And guess what? They were all holding pillows. Stuffed with butter. Not soft, fluffy, yummy butter. Iggy's blender butter. The butter with three inch diameter with the stealth of an iron rock. I gulped. "G-guys? I don't think you should do this. It's gonna hurt somebody… NO! WAIT! ANGEL! NOOOO!"

And so, that happens to be why I'm in a coma. In my own bed. NO, they can't give me the decency of being in gauze, even, because Max and her mother are too cheap to pay for hospital bills.

And Max's Mom finds a bunch of dogs more important than me. So she won't treat me.

Pity me.

Growling, I rolled over on my side, the one with the broken arm. Sure, it hurts like hell. But how else am I going to sleep?

(Not that the emo part of me minds…)

As I continued on my worthless self-thoughts, Iggy burst into the room.

"Fang," He started with a chuckle, "I pity you." (Well, you should too.) I needlessly asked, "Why the hell would you do that?" I already knew the answer. He knew about how I might've gotten Max pregnant that one time and she kicked me in the nuts so hard (Tee-hee. Perverted Fang joke.) I had to get surgery.

"You, my friend, have a PMSing girlfriend. And her also PMSing Mom and sister." Oh. I stared at him awkwardly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Iggy glanced my way. It creeps me out how he can do that without seeing.

"Max is friggen' bitchy. So?"

"Sure, there's only a small change for her attitude, but there is a change, it has happened."

I snickered. "Maybe we should ask Dr. Martinez if dogs can have periods. Or if Max just gets pissy every couple months." That one had us both in rolling on the floor in hysterics.

Iggy added, "I'm pretty sure that the only reason Max hasn't killed you yet is because she's a blond!" The hysterics continued as we kept at the Max jokes.

"It's like, 'Panty shields up, Captain Max?' 'Yes sir, let the blood flow, sir!'"

"Cleanup in isle vagina?"

"Arts and crafts week at camp Max's underwear! Oh gosh, I hope this doesn't stain!"

"Hey Max! Got tounged by vampires lately?"

The two of us boys were attempting to breathe through all of our laughter on the floor. Gasping for air like fish out of water, we were literally having seizures on the floor. Suddenly a very irritated Max burst through the door.

"Hello, you sexist pigs! Sucked yourself off lately? I think you need to soon before your asswipe personalities start to show! Or maybe your on your periods, huh?" I heard Ella choke down a laugh from the room over. Swallowing, I stepped back from the seething Max. Iggy did the same, probably feeling Max's sudden bloodlust.

Knew what this ment. Max almost kills me once, she's a jerk. She almost kills me twice, well, Dylan's a jerk. I'm too emo-tastic to call myself a jerk.

Max picked up Ella's tennis racket.

Let's just say, a lot of screams could be heard throughout the night coming from me and Iggy.

Welcome to my world.

The Unfortunate World of Fang, Fnick, Fangles, the Not-so perfect-and-emo-hottie-anymore.

Or as I call it, a pain in the ass. Prepare to suffer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! It's been a really, really long time. But the thing is, I only got one review on this story and none on the other! I know what I said before, but I need something to push me forward. ANd sadly enough, the only person who did review on her ewas, like, my bestest buddy, CoLoRz!**

**Wooh! Thanks Crayon! (My nickname for CoLoRz.) So anyways, thanks everybody who viewed this and added this to their alerts list, which evidently wasn't many, but you are still the world's epicest peepz! **

**-Chucks cookies at them-**

**Yayz! COOKEH PAHRTY! WOOP!**

**Kay, enough of that. On with teh storykins!**

Fang POV:

I woke up feeling better than Rebecca Black seeing Jessie Slaughter was more hated on the web than her. I leapt, yes, leapt out of bed and spent about twenty minutes messing up my hair and gelling it with Soft Freeze by Lorreal. I put some of my guyliner on and spent a moment or two... hundred and seventy three posing in the mirror, then updated my Twitter account and posed some more.

After three hours of my normal preperation, I realized, "Hey Fangles, why not hit the downstairs with some waffles that Iggy is most likely making to drown out his sorrows!"

"NUDGE! OFF MY COMPUTER! NOW!"

The mocha-skinned girl giggled and scrambled out of my room. I quietly scanned the scrren to see if she had come across any of my "private" profiles or my Shower Max pics. I almost left out a breath of relief when I saw that my history was just as she left it except for... My word document about my life and how much it sucks...

I sucked in my breath. What did she touch on there? What exactly did she see?

Finally manning up enough to read what she had replaced my own words I murmured them to myself under my breath.

"Let's see here... Rebbecca Black? Who the heck... Hair gel? I do not use gel. And what the heck is Twitter?" I murmured to myself in bemusement.

Iggy burst through the door. "Dude, stop touching your self and eat your freaggin' breakfast."

I narrowed my eyes in response. "If I'm the one who touches myself, then what was that Playboy Magazine I found underneath your bed last week from?"

Iggy's pale skin tainted pinkish and he stormed out, grumbling something about no respect for the cook. I rolled my eyes, he was once again being melodramatic for no good reason.

I slipped downstairs in m seat next to Max, who was contently stuffing bits of savory pancakes down her throat. She smiled at me. That kind of ticked me off because of how she smiled. Like she hadn't sat theere and watched the rest of my traitor flock beat me senselessly with metal-butter-pillow thingers.

Despite myself, I nodded back and picked up my fork. I plunged a couple pancakes into my mouth, not really caring about my table manners. What? You can't really blame me if you hear my slightly depressing backstory.

Gazzy clapped a hand over his lips and parted his fingers slightly. "I'm Maaaaxxxx... Fang is soooooo dreamy and adorable and his hair is emo in such a sexy way that I just want to lick his six pack. He's sooo hot I can fry eggs o him, I bet."

Max dropped her fork and glared at me. I shrugged. Max shot a pissy gaze over her flock. "Who did that?" She demanded. The rest of the flock blinked and looked up at her innocently. She finally noticed Gazzy who was cracking up in the corner.

Max grabbed him by his shirt collar and lugged him into the hallway, probably to lecture him about the manners we don't have and never will.

I couldn't help but chuckle. She would never learn, would she?

Unfortunately I looked like, and sounded like, I was choking because of the delicious pancakes that were attempting to make their way down to my abnormally sized stomach.

Nudge noticed, not waiting to grab a thick broom and slapped me hard on the back, knocking me to the ground. I coughed and sputtered out the chewed bits of breakfast on the floor. "Oops," She muttered and blushed and giggled sheepishly. Apparently, she stil hadn't learned her own strength. Ladies and gentlemen, The Incredible Chatterbox!

She bent down and gritted her teeth, expecting to be screamed at. I shot her a glare. I just got out of the hospital, and they try to put me back in? Great. Just freaking great.

I got up. "What the hell?" I grinded my jaw together. She shrugged.

"I thought that you were like, choking or something."

I threw my hands up, exasperated. "I was laughing! Is that so freaking bad?"

I heard Iggy mumble to himself, "No wonder he doesn't ever laugh in front of us. He sounded like a dieing llama."

I growled at them, and stumbled upstairs. I really hated them. I made my way to my laptop and scanned the previous article by Nudge. I should probably look some of these things up. What if she was learning about inapropiate things on the internet and I didn't know? That really wouldn't be accepted by Oprah at all.

First of all... Who the heck is Rebecca Black? I typed her name in and waited for the computer to load.

"Friday..." I clicked on the Google search and a video popped up with the caption, "Worst song ever!" Pop music started to play, and I began to listen patiently, but not for long until my eyes were wide with horror.

_"It's Friday, Friday, Gotta get down on Friday! Everybody's looking forward to te weekend! Patying, Partying! YEAH!"_

Before my head expolded, I slammed it shut and winced at the memories.

"You know what?" I said to myself. "I think I'm gonna stay out of teenage life for a while." With that, I fell back, pondering if people actually liked that these days.


End file.
